Legolas Greenleaf
by Reen2
Summary: Thanks, reviewers!! It's really encouraging. Sorry, the next chapter is in the making. I'm having a little writer's block. Any ideas, suggestions, etc., email me!
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

Do you ever find it really cool that we can write "author's note"? It kind of means we're authors, right? I'm not sure about you, but having that title is really cool for me. Writer, maybe. Dreamer, obviously. But author…author's something real, and fabulous and cool.

Anyway, that was just a tangent (meaning something off-subject). I read in the "Rules" that we're not allowed to write Author Notes as "entries." Am I breaking the "Rules"?? Oh, well. I'm hoping no one will hate me enough to report me. Okay, tangent again.

My fanfiction is about Legolas Greenleaf, because, along with five million other girls who occupy space on this world, I think he's a really cool character and definitely hot. Haha. Anyway, when writing this fanfic, I tried to keep the language as "ancient" as possible. If you spot anything "modernized," please, do not hesitate to tell me. Read and review, and criticize, too, because critiques help to shape an author (ah! that word again! grin) and his/her writing. So, if you could, tell me what's wrong, what could be improved, etc. I also really ask for reviews, suggestions, corrections, the works. Thanks!

I already have a disclaimer, but I'm going to put another one in so I don't get sued or anything.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Legolas Greenleaf or any other character that you recognize as J.R.R. Tolkiens, because, obviously, they are J.R.R. Tolkiens. I'm not going to put a "claimer" (is there such a thing?) on any of my characters because I want other people to feel free to use them, too. Grin. I won't mind.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: (which I forgot to put in before.) I do not own Legolas Greenleaf (sigh) or any other character which you recognize from J.R.R. Tolkien's books, because J.R.R. Tolkien, obviously, owns them.

[The words in are supposed to be in Elvish. As you read, keep in mind that Dwarves and Elves are enemies at this time, so anything Dwarfish is insulting. But the Elves are still a good type of creature, so they will accept that Dwarves do help and do good things.]

_Twang_.

His facial expression didn't change, but his eyes showed pride, pride that rewarded her beyond belief. She turned to him, smiling, her rosy cheeks flushed and a small bow in her hand.

"Well?" she asked proudly. "How did I do?"

With a deep nod and a deeper voice, Legolas replied, "Well. You have improved greatly, young one, and continue to improve. I am honored to be of service to you, as your teacher and mentor."

In her still perky voice, so greatly contrasting to his, she replied, happily but with the smallest bit of dejection in her voice, "It matters not how well of an archer I am or turn out to be. My father will still hear nothing of my skill, and in turn, will let me do nothing."

Legolas walked toward the green sea of grass where Renwyn's arrows had fallen. Renwyn, almost skipping along beside him, glanced at her prince's fair face – his high, sturdy cheekbones and his steady, square jaw, along with is silky blonde hair and perfect nose – and his eyes – oh! his never-ending, emerald green eyes that spoke when he would not – that showed his true feelings when no other aspect of him would –his eyes that now reflected, from the deepest chambers of his heart, thoughts that he dared not share. Renwyn turned back to look at the softly blowing fresh blades of grass, smiling to herself. It was no wonder so many female Elves loved Legolas – even if he was no prince, they would love him. She frowned, slightly, her forehead creased. Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood Forest, returned no affections. He felt love – yes, he felt love, as she could see it in his eyes, but it was a love as a brother, or father, or son – and nothing more than that.

_The same type of love I have for him,_ Renwyn thought to herself. She did not love Legolas the way other female Elves did. Legolas was many years her senior, and the brother she never had, had never even wanted, until she'd first met Legolas. In her mind's eye, she flashed back to her first encounter with her prince.

_"Prince!" she hasped, running after her arrow that would've hit the Prince of Mirkwood, had it not been for the Prince's fast reflexes._

_"That was but a near miss, young one," the prince answered, slowly rising from the ground. "You might find it within yourself to work on your aim."_

_"I know," Renwyn said, almost whining. "My aim is that of a Dwarf's. But unlike a Dwarf's, my axe-handling and even sword skills need as much improvement as my archery." She continued, "It is not that I do not work hard- I strive to be good in all that matters, as good as a true Mirkwood Elf – not only in my fighting skills, but just as much as  my words and actions. Mother tells me much too often to be kind to other creatures, even Dwarves, and to mince my words. _True_ Mirkwood Elves have no need to insult others. And more often than not, I break a dish or fall from a tree – the qualities of a klutz that no Elf should possess."_

_The Prince's eyes shone with merriment and the tiniest hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. "It is indeed good that you strive to be a 'true' Mirkwood Elf. But let it be known to you that those 'true' Mirkwood Elves of which you speak were probably very much like you when they were younger. No true Mirkwood Elf hasn't had struggles, or broken dishes, or bruises in the past. It is out of these struggles that we learn, and grow, and succeed." He looked her full in the face. "Why is it that you desire to have fighting skills? The desire for meaningful words and actions, I comprehend, but the meaning of the need for fighting skills escapes me."_

_Renwyn glared at him. "Do you think that female Elves are useless? That we cannot wield sword or axe?"_

_Legolas almost laughed at her fierceness. "Calm your own, young fire. I will teach you."_

"Renwyn."

Renwyn's memory faded as Legolas spoke.

"An arrow."

Renwyn bent to retrieve her arrow. She watched as Legolas continued walking, a secure stride, majestic and certain. _He didn't make much conversation, then,_ Renwyn remembered. _He spoke to only to teach, but yet, I got to know him…his personality. He is so silent. Always, he is in thought. I, at many times, ponder why he speaks so little._ Running to catch up to Legolas, she thought, [_He is such a good Elf, with his calm demeanor and cool temper, but also with his great skill and strength, and his gentle ways. There is something about him, some air, that makes you feel safe and warm when you're around him. His personality is that of one of the best, and his looks even better. Has not even one female Elf appealed to him?_ As Renwyn spotted another of her arrows, a subject came to mind, and she broke the silence, starting conversation.

"Are you excited about the Elf ceremony this night? They are welcoming King Thranduil's cousin, Kelhéo. Your cousin, in honesty."

"No, not cousins," Legolas corrected, "friend's of the Royal Family from distant lands, from many leagues away."

"I have heard that they will bring a future wife for the prince – for you."

Legolas walked in silence. After a long pause, he spoke. "I wish not to fall in love with a maiden Elf." He chucked her lightly under her chin with a slender hand. "Let not ideas stray into your small and Dwarfish head."

Renwyn laughed and ran after her light-footed Prince, who had already begun to run, like a rush of wind through a golden wheat field.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Welcome, dear friend. The courts of Thranduil are open to you." Thranduil's commanding voice echoed through the great hall where Elves were feasting and making merry. "I believe my son, Legolas of Mirkwood, will be of fine companionship to your daughter, as she will find little or no pleasure in our talk, friend Kelhéo."

Legolas bowed as a female Elf stepped out.  She wore a long, silver cloak and a silver garland upon her head. She had black curls that cascaded down her back, and uncommon purple eyes that had a piercing gaze. Her skin shone with radiance, and her lips were the sweet, light red of a seashell in clear waters. She was beauty, but she affected Legolas not, as, it seemed, Legolas affected her not.

She curtsied. "I am Iakywn, of the Maress Woodlands, where Maress roam free of fear."

"I have seen only glimpses of the Maress, and you are of good fortune to live amongst them." Legolas paused. "I hope Mirkwood Forest and the courts of Thranduil will be of service to you, and that you will find enjoyment in our forest."

"I find no enjoyment in Mirkwood Forest," Iakywn responded abruptly. "I was brought here not by mine own will, but of the will of my father's, and as long as I am required to stay here, I will loathe all. The only place I long to be is in the Maress Woodlands, where I had not a care in the world, and no need to worry about such petty things as kings and ceremonies."

Legolas was shocked by her blunt and aggressive attitude, but he stayed emotionless. "Indeed, it would be of greatness to live within the Maress Woodlands." As he stared at the Elf in front of him, he gave a small inward chuckle. She was so protective – so carefree, as she said, and bold. She wasn't like the other Elves, the other [_female_] Elves, on their best "feminine" behavior around him, hoping to dash away with his heart. No…Iakywn – Iakywn was different, and because of this difference, Legolas began to feel… _something_ for her – maybe a close friendship – maybe more. But it was there. As truly as a river flows, Legolas knew it was there.

Legolas held out an arm. "Will you dance?"

Iakywn hesitated. Her first instinct was to say no, but that would be a public shame: to herself, to Legolas, and to her father. Herself and Legolas, she did not care for, but her father - Iakywn glanced in the direction of the table at which her father Kelhéo sat, drinking and eating and conversing with King Thranduil – and – [_laughing_.] He had not laughed much in the Maress Woodlands. He had laughed hardly at all, since the death of Niakwan, his wife and Iakywn's mother. It was a joy to see him laugh again. Public humiliation would make his smile disappear. So, Iakywn accepted. Not for herself, or Legolas, of the king, or the people, but for her father. For her father, Kelhéo of the Maress Woodlands, she would accept.

Iakywn curtsied. She held onto Legolas, hand on arm, as he led her to the clearing in the woods, where Elves stood on a platform, playing Elven instruments and singing in their beautiful voices, for the Elves dancing on the velvet grass.

To a slow, mysterious, clear tune, Iakywn and Legolas danced. And as they danced, Legolas' heart beat faster. What was this effect that Iakywn had on him? That feeling – it was still there, and strengthening, solidifying with each synchronized step they took, underneath the dark purple sky dotted with tiny lights. Silent, strong, handsome, tall Legolas, the supposedly unloving Prince of Mirkwood – Legolas was falling in love.


	3. Chapter 2

"Legolas."

Legolas looked up from the soft grass he'd been walking on besides Iakywn. Many days had passed since Iakywn's first arrival – her arrival had been close to one year prior.

"I am leaving tomorrow."

Legolas' light footsteps stopped. The quiet wind blew her cool breath against his cheek as he stared upon Iakywn's back. She whirled around in a flurry of jet-black hair to face the Prince.

"I had to leave sometime, Legolas!" she exclaimed, her violet eyes searching his, not wanting to hurt him with her upcoming admittance. Iakywn stepped closer to him. "Legolas…the time I have spent here, with you, has been more enjoyable than I had expected. You have been a good companion – and an honest, determined one, virtuous qualities. The day after my welcome, you entered my chambers and requested my accompanying presence on dawn's first light's walk. And we walked. You confessed your love for me, Legolas, and begged me to find a place in my cold heart to let you have a chance to win my love. I agreed – and I almost regret doing so. You persisted, every day, to spend time by my side. We talked long hours, often into the night, past night and into morning. I do not regret our talks, or our blooming close friendship. What I regret is stabbing your kind and gentle heart with my next words." Iakywn paused. "I do not love you, Legolas. You have a dear friend to me, and have melted away the ice covering my heart. But my heart feels no love, other than that of a sister to a brother."

The silence stretched like a strained bowstring, threatening to snap at any moment. Moment…after moment…after moment passed, as the silence was pulled – and as the silence begged to be free – and as the silence –

"You could learn."

- snapped.

Iakywn sighed and turned away. "No, Legolas."

"Tell me of what reason." Legolas stepped in front of the stubborn Elf that his love had enfolded. She was all beauty, all fair…. Legolas reached a hand up to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen over her face. "You learned to love Mirkwood, to love the halls of Thranduil, King. Can you not learn to love me?"

"Nay, I can't, Legolas. Believe me, I've tried. But I can't force myself to love you." Iakywn looked down at the rustling grass, the verdant threads that had been sewed by God's own hands to the rich soil. "Legolas, love is something beautiful. It should never be enforced. For if it is, it is not true love. Would you want a love that is not real?" When she heard no answer, she continued, "Legolas. Do you remember when we first met? The long time ago when I was first received as a guest of this forest?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember how cold I was? How unhappy? I did not want to enjoy my time here." Iakywn lifted her eyes. "But my thoughtless mind was changd, and even my frozen heart, and that is more than anyone can ever expect from me, Prince. Be joyous of my change, and of your role in my transformation."

"I can only be joyous with you by my side."

Iakywn shook her head slowly. Her hand reached forward and placed itself on Legolas' complexion. "I leave tomorrow, Legolas."

"Then I will leave with you."

"No, Legolas." Her hand left his face. "Your home is here, with your kindred. I leave tomorrow, Prince, and I leave alone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"King Thranduil," a mighty voice echoed through the halls, causing Thranduil to tear his attention away from the son he'd been deep in conversation with. Thranduil watched Kelhéo approach, with Iakywn at his side. Kelhéo bowed low.

"It grieves me to announce my departure, Thranduil, good friend," Kelhéo said, rising from his bow. Iakywn curtsied. "My long stay here has proved to me the hospitality of the courts of Mirkwood. May the bonds and alliances between the Elves of the Maress and of Mirkwood never weaken or fail."

Thranduil gave Kelhéo a ddep nod. When his head rose again, Kelhéo could see a deep pain that stabbed Kelhéo's heart – the hurt was that great.

"Thranduil!" Kelhéo cried. "Do you despair of my leave so enormously?"

Thranduil closed his eyes for a long moment, and then turned to his son. "No, Kelhéo. I am glad you found such enjoyment in the halls of Thranduil. It is of a leave that I despair, but not of yours, beg pardon, but of my son's."

As Kelhéo stared at the king in amazement, Legolas stepped forward. His eyes met Iakywn's sorrowful own as she anticipated the words she knew were coming. He held her gaze as he spoke, calmly and seriously, "I am going with you to the Maress Woodlands, and I mean not to return."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It was not a jest when I told you I would leave with you."

Iakywn stopped pacing to glare at Legolas. "And it was not a jest when I said I not wanted you to!"

They were standing on a pavilion, where Iaykwn had asked to speak with Legolas in peace after he'd make his proclamation. Golden-tinted leaves, as were common in Mirkwood, danced around them, caught up in the wind's song and invitation. Birds flew past, sharp blurs against the slow sky.

"I am leaving with you." Legolas' decision stood firm.

"You are leaving your family!" Iakywn shouted. "Do you care nothing for your father and king? Did you not see his agony? Was it not as obvious to you as to me?"

"I care more for you."

"More than even the very person that has showered you with love since your birth?"

"Yes."

"No, Legolas!" yelled Iakywn, infuriated. "If you did, you are more of the heartless person than I am thinking you right now. You are just blinded on the hour. You will regret your choice when you realize that there are no showers of love from me, and never will be. I _do not_ love you, mattering not how much you love me."

_How could he be so cruel?_ Iakywn thought to herself. _How could he leave his family like that? He was lucky enough to have a wonderful family, a wonderful home. How could he ever want to give that up?_ Silently, Iakywn screamed at Legolas, _Not everyone has been as beloved as you, Prince!_

Legolas' voice rose slightly. "You can indeed learn to love, Iakywn, as I have said before!"

Iakywn's old fire, which had not gone but been merely suppressed, flared up again. Her heart turned hard and she became unchanged. The unloving Elf with the lashing tongue reappeared again, fighting away the new Elf that had taken its place, the soft Elf, the inner Elf. Iakywn's shield and armor was on, and with it, four walls on each tender, exposed side. She was completely protected – completely covered – completely cold. Iakywn's tone quieted and a dangerous edge shook her voice.

"Legolas, I speak the truth. I _do not_love you. I cannot learn to love you. I will never love you. The sun may cease to shine – the farmers made need not the rain, but I will not love you. You may travel the earth and back, but I will not learn. There is nothing you can do, no unimaginable feat of heroism that will make me love you. Life itself may stop – no love will start. Legolas! Lose hope, for it is hopeless. Lose dream, for it is dreamless. You mean next to nothing to me, Legolas, and learn that I mean next to nothing to you."

Iakywn's amethyst eyes lost their shine as they were enveloped in pure fury and rage. She stood firm, staring at Legolas, hands clenched in uncontrollable fists. He moved not, and held her gaze. She blinked, once, and he was gone, dirt swirling where he'd stood, the only remaining clue he'd even been there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is all resolved, Iakywn?"

"Yes, Father," Iakywn responded, her voice soft. "Shall we depart?"

"The sun is high. It is a bad time to depart, when the heat beats down against our backs. We will leave at twilight. The moon is old tonight, and full. We will have light in the cool evening. Take rest now, Iakywn – there are many leagues of heavy riding."

Iakywn nodded, still silent. Curtsying her leave, she vanished into her chambers.

"Kelhéo…" Thranduil said, putting a hand on Kelhéo's shoulder.

"My heart is heavy, Thranduil. My daughter's heart is saddened."

"My son is the cause, but I cannot even find his, as far as my sight stretches." Thranduil's voice was thick with grief.

"Do not worry yourself, Thranduil. They are both at fault."

"As are we."

"Indeed."

A short silence followed, as the two fathers' friendship grew stronger, bonded by their loss.

Thranduil cleared his throat. "Walk with me, dear friend Kelhéo," Thranduil said. "Let us go."

Iakywn leaned back against the doorpost and sighed. _Do you see how your father is suffering, Legolas? Do you not care? How could you not care?_ She heard Thranduil and Kelhéo's footsteps diminish and then fade away.

_"I do not love you…. No, Legolas…. Life itself may stop….  Lose hope…lose dream…."_

Her own piercing voice reverberated through her head. Iakywn was feeling something she'd never felt before – guilt.

"My words could have lessened in harshness," she whispered to herself. Iakywn raised a limp hand to her head.

_"You mean next to nothing to me…Legolas…"_

_"Early you awake, Kelhéo…."_

What was this new voice, invading her thoughts?

_"An early riser I am, as you are, Prince!"_

What importance did this memory hold?

_"Do early risers run in the family bloodline?"_

Yes…that was the memory.


End file.
